


but the story is this

by marrieddorks



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Enemies to Friends, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marrieddorks/pseuds/marrieddorks
Summary: The Golden Prince, the Veretian Royal Navy's pride, had been sunk by the notorious pirate, Captain Damianos, killing almost all of the crew including Laurent's older brother and the ship's captain, Auguste.  For seven years, Laurent had waited for a chance to get out on the sea to avenge what had been lost.  When that moment lay open in his hand, however, Captain Damianos has information that changes everything.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Pre-Damen/Laurent
Comments: 25
Kudos: 62
Collections: Captive Prince Reverse Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi, everyone! welcome to my RBB for the CapriRBB2019! 
> 
> this did not turn out the way i thought it would. i had so many other ways i planned on taking this. i actually scrapped an initial 10k of this because it was turning so much bigger than i had time for and that would have made sense for what i was trying to get at. i think i did get at that here, and maybe opened up the door for me to possibly add to this universe in the future.
> 
> fair warning: there is not really any romance in this. its foundation is there and the attraction is there in certain parts, but it doesn't happen in this story. i'm sorry it's not here but i think you'll all understand, or at least i hope so.
> 
> thank you so much to the mods of the CapriRBB2019 and to my artist, ravenouslullaby, for her wonderful and stunning art and her patience while i figured everything out <3

Laurent braced both hands on the splintered railing of the bow as the ship rocked violently from the impact of the third cannonball. There wasn’t much time to refind his footing, not when a sword was coming down for his vulnerable outstretched arms, not when he couldn’t see if the person behind him was a friend or foe. Instead he did what he had been taught to do; to duck, to make himself small, to go with the momentum. The ship was turning, the loose materials rolling eastward, and Laurent went with them, brushing legs and ammunition as he slid through blood and seawater. He was inconspicuous for just a moment. He was inconspicuous long enough for the ringing in his ears to stop.

When it was gone, it was replaced by screams.

He could hear the pained yells all around him, their sources unimportant at the moment, their suffering real. Captain Enguerran called out a vengeful “Fire!” and Laurent couldn’t care about it, not when he could see _him_.

Seven months at sea and six years of festering rage had been leading to this moment.

The ship rocked with the power from the blasts of the six cannons below deck. Laurent held tight to the railing once more, now just feet away from the foremast. His ears were ringing again. Quickly, he hauled himself up the foremast, using the loosened ropes and his own sword as leverage. He wasn’t quite certain what he was going to do once he reached the top. All he knew was that once he got there, he would be able to see Captain Damianos with clear eyes.

Hands swept at his legs and he kicked them away, hearing and not seeing the body they belonged to fall into the swarm of pirates below. He didn’t matter. None of them mattered. Laurent climbed and climbed until he could balance himself on the horizontal beam holding the front sail. A gust of wind rushed his hair around his face and, for a moment, everything stilled.

It was so different up here. He could still hear the screams, the yells, the lingering ringing from cannons, but they seemed so distant, almost as if from another life. The flag of the Bella Orcus was still flying high, the whale of its insignia a bright yellow spot in a sea of blue. It contrasted greatly with the Prince Killer’s plain and blood-red flag.

_No mercy._

Across the way, Captain Damianos was fighting valiantly. It made Laurent’s stomach turn. He took in the build of the pirate, took in his dark, violent eyes, his unbridled rage held in sun-darkened muscles, his bared teeth. He looked every part the beast Laurent had always thought him to be, had been told he was. He looked every part the beast that would kill Auguste.

A series of loud screams, these unlike any others Laurent had heard since the battle began, sounded out at the bow. Laurent twisted, watched as his captain was slaughtered by another beast of a man, watched as the beast dragged the blood-stained end of his sword across his captain’s throat. Captain Enguerran’s body shuddered and fell unceremoniously.

There were only two ways for this to go now, Laurent thought, his eyes rapidly splaying over the scene; either the pirates of the Bella Orcus would be spurned by their captain’s death and would double in strength, in survival, or they would fall just like him. Laurent knew only one thing in that moment and that was that he had to get to Captain Damianos before this was over.

It was suicide, walking along the beam of the foremast unsupported and unspotted. But Laurent did it, his boots pigeon-toed and his eyes focused, brimming with tears at the wind hitting his face. It was an easy jump to the beam just across, this one belonging to the mainmast where their flag continued to fly, for now anyway. Laurent still didn’t look up, but kept going with determination.

The mizzenmast was just above where Captain Damianos was still fighting. Once safely perched on its beam, Laurent chanced looking up, chanced fueling his grief with the sight of the man he most detested. But what he saw was not what he expected.

He expected that same savage look in Captain Damianos’ eyes he had seen glimpses of in the moments since he had launched the attack on the Bella Orcus. He expected that same savage look Auguste must have seen before he fell beneath the murky waters alongside his ship and most of his men. But Laurent didn’t see that kind of look. He saw those eyes, beneath the brim of a wide hat, beneath furrowed brows, searching. He saw them in panic.

A man behind Captain Damianos protected his exposed left flank from a wide open attack by Hendric, and the same man shot his captain a look of concern that was unmet.

There was a rope loose from the mizzenmast, the sail it once held anchored flapping wildly in the wind. With nimble fingers, Laurent grabbed at it, held on to it tightly, and used it to start shimmying down the mast. Captain Damianos was in a cleared path. It would take four, maybe five large steps to get to him, but Laurent knew he could do it. He could get his sword there for at least one blow. But then he heard the captain speak, his voice carrying across ship, its power resonated by the splash of the waves below.

“I surrender!” Captain Damianos yelled, his sword clattering at his feet. “I surrender.”

It took a moment for the words to be processed. Laurent, still hanging onto the loosened rope, his feet planted in the middle of the mast, twisted to look, to watch as the ruthless captain was quickly stripped of his effects, of his hat and his armband signifying his rank.

The men of the Bell Orcus looked confused as they did this, shared glances that spoke of traitorism and disbelief, but Jord, their quartermaster, took control of the situation, pushing the captain to his knees on the bloodied deck.

“Spare my men. You have me, that is all you need. Give my men jobs, send them off at the nearest port, but spare them. Those are my only terms.”

“I don’t believe you’re in any position to be telling us about your terms,” Jord said. He held the captain’s gun belt tightly in his hands. Then, with as much flourish as Jord could ever possess, he turned to face the surviving men of the Bella Orcus, turned to face Laurent. “Board what remains of the Prince Killer and lower its flag. The day is ours.”

There were screams; cheers.

The rest of the crew of the Prince Killer fell to their knees in likeness to their captain. Laurent took in their numbers as he lowered himself down. The need for two brigs was imminent.

~~OOOOO~~

It took hours to figure out what to do. The first matter needed attended to was that of the Prince Killer’s crew. Laurent watched from the sidelines as Jord split the men into two groups, watched as one half was walked across a plank to their old ship that now flew the flag of the Bella Orcus, watched as they were led below deck to the cells awaiting them. He watched as the other half was shoved into the cells of the Bella Orcus, their heads low, their faces solemn. Captain Damianos was put in a room of his own, the infirmary typically left for the physician, Paschal, to occupy alone until one of the men needed attended to.

“He won’t be in there for long,” Jord had said when one of the Bella Orcus crew raised concern. “There’s an island to leave him upon not but a four day sail from here.”

The second matter needed attended was that of a new captain. The answer was obvious, Jord having been quartermaster of this ship for the last half decade, but it still needed a public vote, still needed announced. Within minutes it was and Orlant, their Master Gunner, slapped Jord — Captain Jord — roughly on the shoulder in good-natured congratulations.

The third matter needed attended was that of celebration. It wasn’t everyday that one brought down an entire rival pirate crew, let alone a crew as infamous as that of the Prince Killer, as that of the crew of Captain Damianos. Their rum was supplied from the remains of the Prince Killer’s stock and it flowed abundantly, making everyone louder and louder as the moon progressively rose higher into the night.

Laurent wasn’t joining in the festivities. He was waiting to get Jord alone, waiting to talk, waiting like he had for the last six years. Captain Damianos was below deck. He was hearing their cacophony of footsteps and music and cheers and Laurent was simmering with an ever-growing need to speak to him, to ridicule him, to drown him in the Ellosean Sea the same way he had drowned Auguste.

It took ages to spot Jord in the rowdy crowd. He was smiling, but it was strained at the edges, though Laurent wasn’t certain if it was because of the sudden responsibility on his shoulders, the brutal death of his longtime captain, or the way Aimeric’s eyes wouldn’t leave him no matter where he went. It was perhaps a combination of the three.

When he at long last laid eyes on Laurent, he went ashen. It took a moment, a brief and pregnant moment of silence, before he got out one word, its exit from his throat just as strained as his pressured smile. “No.”

“Jord —”

“That’s _Captain_ Jord to you,” Lazar slurred across the way.

Laurent didn’t have time for this. He led Jord down the closest set of stairs that went below deck, expertly stepping in the dark, before shutting the lowered entrance to the slot where the cannons stood. Laurent could still smell their gun powder.

“You have to let me in there,” Laurent told him.

“No, Laurent.”

“Allow me to rephrase then. You will let me in there.”

“This is not up for debate,” Jord said, his teeth clenched. “He will die like a captain surrendered should. He will die by his own bullet or by starvation, but he will have that choice. We are lucky to even have him at our mercy. I won’t break code.”

“Yes, we’re too lucky. Captain Damianos is infamous for a reason, Jord. An infamous man doesn’t simply surrender. There is a game he is playing and I want to know what it is.”

“What makes you say he is playing a game?” Jord asked, and they paused as voices sounded out too close to them.

“Are you not listening? Because of what I said. Captain Damianos is infamous. He has sunk countless vessels. He has never been captured. He murdered our captain and let his body fall to our very deck like a child’s ragdoll.” Laurent moved in closer, feeling almost crazed with it all. “We were outnumbered. We were outplayed. And then he surrenders and begs for mercy for his crew. He is playing a game and I fear if we do not get ahead of him, it will lead to our doom.”

They were both quiet. The music had somehow gotten louder, more raucous, and it pounded at Laurent’s head. The smell of gunpowder, sea spray, and rum made him dizzy too.

“I will not die like my brother did. I will not let that barbarian bury me into the sea. Not unless he comes with me.”

Jord was worrying his hands around his new captain’s badge. There was still blood of Enguerran’s on it. It seemed like ages before he spoke again.

“I’m assigning four different men to rotate watch of the captain. I don’t want it to be a set routine, but you will be third. Get whatever you can out of him before we get to Franrich Cay. I can delay us an extra day to stop back in Port Varenne. But that is all I can do, Laurent. Despite everything, this is no longer a private revenge mission. He attacked us all. The crew will never forgive me if I take that lightly.”

“No one is asking for mercy, Jord. But give me time. You owe that much to Auguste. As do I. If you do so, I will make it count.” He started for the deck again, his right foot braced on the first step, his blue eyes darkened in the night. “Captain Damianos will know who was his end.”

~~OOOOO~~

Laurent couldn’t sleep. Guymar would be coming any minute to tell him it was his time to keep an eye on Captain Damianos. The idea made Laurent’s stomach roll like the waves of the ocean. It was all happening so fast.

Yesterday happened so fast.

There had been no signs of the Prince Killer and her crew since Laurent voyaged out on the sea seven months earlier. There had hardly even been any whispers. It was infuriating to Laurent, the quiet, but he was a master at biding his time and this was part of that process. He was closer here on the sea than he ever had been, stuck inside the walls of Arles, stuck under the thumb of his uncle. He kept reminding himself of that much.

When they had first heard about the Prince Killer, they had been three hundred miles west of where the ship had last been seen, and Laurent cursed his luck. Then there was nothing. There was nothing for three months.

Then yesterday happened, the suddenness of it still making Laurent’s head spin. They — the crew of the Bella Orcus — had been on their way to Port Alier to restock on food, to stretch their legs, to allow the men that deemed it necessary to blow off some steam with the local whores to do so. The port had been in sight when they first spotted it, a ship in the distance, its flag a daunting blood red, its crew jumping at the bit to attack. It had been the Prince Killer.

They had tried to outrun the ship, tried to make it to port where an attack would result in hanging, something no pirate would risk, but the Prince Killer’s speed was legendary and true and the crew of the Bella Orcus found themselves stumbling as the first cannonball hit the right part of their bow. Then it had been chaos, nothing but pure chaos.

The only vivid part of yesterday —minus the surrendering of course — was the first sight of Captain Damianos.

Laurent had been dreaming of this moment since he was but barely exiting his adolescence, but had never had a face to put to the dream. Now he could. He had taken in the sight of the captain and his face and his stature and his arrogance. He had taken in the glint of his brown eyes as they searched for their next victim, had taken in the glint of his brown eyes as he searched and searched. He had taken in the sweat-drenched curls of his hair and the flexing of his muscles underneath poor excuses for clothing; indecent pirate. He had taken in the blood on the end of the captain’s sword and the blood splattered elsewhere, on his face, on his hands, his chest. He had taken in the scar underneath the shoddy excuse for a collar on a shirt.

When it had ended, its end abrupt and off-balance, Laurent had watched as Captain Damianos was stripped of his effects, as he was shoved down the staircase that led to the infirmary’s brig. It should have been gratifying. It should have been exhilarating. But something was off, as Laurent had told Jord, something was horribly off. Before he could bask in the glory of yesterday he had to know what made the captain surrender. He had to know why this didn’t play out like it had six years earlier.  
“Your go,” Guymar interrupted his wild thoughts. Laurent hadn’t heard him maneuver through the hammocks, hadn’t heard anything at all since he first tried to lay down, but within seconds he was up and standing, ready to face Captain Damianos face to face.

The brig was on the other side of the ship and, oddly enough, the fastest way to it was first going back up to the deck and descending the staircase in that direction.

The night air was refreshing on his face. Long gone were the bloodied stains on the deck’s surface. It looked almost as if nothing had happened, minus the missing railing on the ship’s left side. It made Laurent’s already off-kilter feelings even more pronounced, and it was in his distracted observation that Jord snuck up on him.

“Laurent,” he began, his voice quiet not to startle. Laurent turned from where the moon had been hitting his hair in perfect balance, making it white-gold in its appearance, making him colder than he had ever been before. “Laurent, promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

It was as close as Laurent had ever seen Jord to begging, even closer than when Laurent had proposed this entire scheme of him becoming a cabin boy to get out on the sea.

“When have I ever been rash, Jord?” and Laurent meant it.

“When has anything regarding Auguste not overrun all your rational thought?” Jord asked back, and he meant it too.

“If you can’t trust me with this, why did you ever allow me to come aboard?” Laurent asked. He was getting impatient.

“Because if I didn’t, you would have gone somewhere else. You’re nothing but determined, Laurent. It can be a fault.”

“Do you mind not trying to be a poor excuse of a person trying to stand in Auguste’s shoes for me? The captain has been down there alone for at least ten minutes, I would hate for something to have happened in that time,” Laurent said.

Jord was looking at him, his eyes pleading where his voice wouldn’t. He stepped to the side. Laurent walked. At the staircase he stopped one last time to look up at the moon. A gust of air made him take a deep breath. In the distance, he could hear the crashing of waves on a surface. It made him feel like he was drowning.

There wasn’t time to think once he took his first step. It wasn’t a long staircase, and the brig was just to the left, its bars a darkened metal, its floors dusty and unkempt. And inside was Captain Damianos sitting on a bench, looking more a man than the beast Laurent had seen on the deck not even a day ago.

Captain Damianos didn’t bother to look up as Laurent entered. Hidden in the shadows, Laurent couldn’t even tell if the captain’s eyes were open or closed. There was a desk and chair, both rickety, over in the back corner for Laurent to sit at during his watch. It looked so far away from where Captain Damianos was at though and there were parts of Laurent straining to be closer. He took the seat anyway.

It was impossible to take his eyes off of where Captain Damianos sat, one knee pulled up and his foot on the bench, the other outstretched in front of him. His head was still down, his face behind the shadows and the fall of his now-dry curls, but Laurent could see the muscle of his jaw twitching in the filtering moonlight, could see it tick.

Laurent wanted to say something. He wanted to begin his interrogation, wanted to ask all the whys and hows and whens to a litany of questions pertaining to the Veretian Navy, to the pirates at sea, to the captain’s own life, to the Bella Orcus, to the Golden Prince, to Auguste. But there was so much to say, so much to ask, and every time Laurent went to open his mouth to speak, to ask the questions he’d needed answers to for years, nothing came out. The only sound was that of the sea outside the musky brig and the distant footsteps of pirates from the Bella Orcus, wandering their ship without a care, wandering like a pirate.

For the entirety of Laurent’s watch, the two sat like statues. Captain Damianos didn’t look up once and Laurent never even thought about looking away.

It was Jord who came to relieve him of his duties, his approach hesitant and intrusive, his eyes searching for signs of something. Laurent said nothing to him as he left, his eyes finally leaving the opposing captain for the first time in hours.

His ascent back up the stairs felt like breaking free of water after being below too long, after drowning in its consumption, after succumbing to its power. Laurent breathed in the air, already warming from the awakened sun, and with a sudden rage, punched the mast with all his might, bloodying his knuckles horrendously.

He wanted to scream.

Bypassing the larger brig where more of the Prince Killer’s crew was being held, Laurent finally collapsed into his own hammock, curling his injured hand to his chest.

Tomorrow. He would wait until tomorrow.

~~OOOOO~~

Like the day before, Laurent was fetched by Guymar for his duty. There was no Jord to interrogate him on his way, the newly appointed captain of the Bella Orcus long occupied with new tasks. Going down the staircase felt so much like yesterday, like drowning in inescapable water. As he did all things, however, Laurent went about it stoically, his eyes cold, his jaw set, and his mind set on one singular task.

The captain looked much as he had yesterday as well. In fact, if Laurent didn’t know the needs of the human body better, he would have said that the captain hadn’t moved in the last thirty hours.

The seat from the desk had been moved closer to the cell, but still a distance from the captain’s form. Laurent couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to go into the cell, to kill Captain Damianos right there. Sure, Jord would have him killed or, worse, marooned, but it would be worth it. He could meet Auguste with no regrets.

Instead Laurent sat down and waited.

For several hours the only interruption of the tense silence was that of Aimeric bringing down a meal for the captain and for Laurent. Both left it untouched, though the captain did take to large drinks out of his cup of rum.

Laurent was just shoving his own bowl across the paper-scattered desk when the captain said, “Are my men safe?”

It was startling, his voice. He was speaking in quiet Veretian. He was speaking it almost hesitantly. Laurent controlled himself to not react, controlled every muscle held tight in his body. He turned with a coldness.

“We would not go back on our word.” The words left his throat roughly, like the burn of alcohol going down. The captain’s voice was deep, bassy, like the sound heard when one’s head was underwater, surrounded by pressure and the licking of waves.

Laurent watched the captain nod once, taking what Laurent said without question. But then he spoke yet again.

“Are you planning on keeping them aboard the ship or are they to be taken to port?”

He spoke far more eloquently than Laurent assumed he would have. In the shadows of the cell, Laurent couldn’t make out his lips moving but he could see the deep brown of his eyes staring right back at him.

“You’re talkative, for a prisoner,” Laurent chose to say instead. Each word was enunciated.

“I’m merely asking about my men. You can go back to your brooding if you’d like.”

Laurent thought he should be hit for that. It was a shame the cell was intended for more than a single person.

“The men will have a choice,” Laurent said. “They can join or they can be dropped at Port Alier when we arrive. After that, it is no matter of our own what happens to them.”

Unsure of what to expect next, Laurent braced himself for more questions from the captain. He, however, seemed to have other plans in mind, and he settled more fully against the splintered wood of the cell wall, his eyes on the barest glimmer of outside he could see this far below deck.

When it was time to rotate, Jord having knocked twice on the door, Laurent stood and felt the ache in his legs from sitting for too long. He was just out the door when the captain said, “You don’t speak like a pirate.”

~~OOOOO~~

Laurent wasn’t brooding. That was something he told himself as he sat on the deck, in the sunshine, contemplating the man below.

“He say anything to you?” Jord asked.

Captaincy looked good on Jord, but he didn’t breathe it like Captain Damianos did. Still, it brought a change about the way he held himself, about the way he was carried. It definitely brought a change in Aimeric’s already focused attentions. Laurent sat back, his palms on the sun-warmed wood.

“He’s only asked about his men. Other than that, he’s silent like the night. He’s dangerous.”

Jord hummed in response and said nothing for a moment. Instead he stared out at the vastness of the sea. Once, not that long ago, Jord had told Laurent, in a somewhat drunken stupor, that Laurent and Auguste both had eyes from the sea waters. But they were from different parts, mind you; Jord had been very adamant about that. Auguste’s eyes, he had said, were the blue of the deepest parts. They were dark and stormy and were the only part of the man that was capable of hiding his nature, a nature of honor, a nature that saw good in all. Laurent’s eyes, he had drawled after that confession, were the blue of the southern waters, of the waters nearest to Patras and Akielos. Laurent had bristled at that, but Jord had continued on, unperturbed. Laurent’s eyes, he had said, were bright and were the only part of himself that gave away what he was feeling, that gave away what lies in his heart.

“Damianos hasn’t done anything to break the peace since he surrendered,” Jord said. “My gut tells me that if he had a plan, he would have executed it by now.”

“Unless he’s waiting for us to get closer to Port Alier. It would be the only way he would have guaranteed survival, after all. To abandon ship here would be to subject himself to the elements. He’s smarter than that, Jord. He’ll wait.”

“If that’s the case, try to find out beforehand. I’d hate for him to get us with another sneak attack.”

“Oh, believe me,” Laurent said, pushing himself up to his feet. “I’ll find out.”

Guymar came for him earlier than before. Laurent was aware of the time, intimately aware of each passing second, aware that he only had two days to understand what was occuring in the rogue captain’s mind.

His descent into this solitude felt different than it had the last two nights; he had rehearsed in his head what to say, how to talk, how to get out information. Should Captain Damianos resist, Laurent had other means in mind. Auguste’s dagger was a physical reminder at his hip.

Expectedly, Captain Damianos was in the same place in his cell. It was lighter than normal, due to Guymar’s earlier leave, and Laurent could truly see the Akielon features prominently facing him.

The captain was growing a fuller beard having been without means to shave it for a few days. It made him look more mature. It made him look more dangerous.

Laurent knew the captain was assuming Laurent would do what he had done the last two evenings so when the legs of the chair scraped loudly against the floor as Laurent dragged it closer to the cell gates, Laurent was able to see the first physical reaction out of the captain since he had been taken.

“I’m going to say this only once,” Laurent started, his ankles crossing as he settled into his seat. “I’m going to ask you questions, you’re going to answer with every excruciating detail you know, and you will not speak until I am done addressing you. Understood?”

Though there was more light, Captain Damianos was still shrouded in shadow. Laurent waited for a beat, waited for confirmation, and when he received none, he spoke once more.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, feeling anything but, “you must not speak Veretian that well. Allow me to rephrase then.”

Laurent was thinking of the Akielon words for what he needed to say when Captain Damianos leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. There was a challenge in his deep brown eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself. I speak Veretian just fine,” he said in perfect accentless Veretian.

The dagger at Laurent’s side felt heavy.

“Very well.” Laurent moved the chair up just an inch closer. “What is this game you are playing at?”

Still in the light, Laurent was able to make out the raising of one of the captain’s eyebrows. The action made his jaw relax, smoothed his face out. He looked younger. Laurent stared.

“Well?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your question,” the captain said.

“Allow me to ask it again then.” Laurent kept his voice clipped.

“You can ask it all you want, it still won’t make any sense.”

“You’re Captain Damianos,” Laurent started, his voice the same. His fingers were digging into the wood of the chair. “You’ve sunk countless vessels, you’ve captured hundreds of men, stolen from ships under the highest protection. In all the years you’ve roamed the seas, you have never been bettered.”

Realization was dawning on Captain Damianos’ face. He was trying to close himself off, trying to reel it in, but he was awful at it. Laurent wondered how he hadn’t been found out in some way with such an awful face for deception. He would have been eaten alive on the land, in Arles.

“You had the element of surprise when you attacked this ship. You had this crew outnumbered, outplayed. You slaughtered Captain Enguerran with a clean cut to his throat. And yet,” Laurent paused, “you surrendered.”

“I did,” the captain said, his voice low and questioning.

“What part of that doesn’t look suspicious, Captain?” Laurent wasn’t looking for an answer here. “So I will ask my question again: what is this game you’re playing at?”

The captain’s face did that thing again, only it went back to its tensity, went back to making the captain look more worn. His foot, booted and strong, was tapping incessantly on the wooden floor. Laurent wasn’t certain if its rhythm matched his own heartbeat or the captain’s.

“There’s no game,” Captain Damianos said slowly, as though every word was thoroughly thought out, as though he couldn’t reveal the words he truly wanted to say. “I did what was necessary. I did what was right.”

“I’m not certain if it’s your Akielon sensibilities or your pirate ones that make you awful at speaking in riddles, but neither are doing you any favors at the moment. Speak clearly, Captain.”

“I’m aware I am prisoner here, but it seems horribly unfair. Your terms, I mean. And since you’re wanting information from me, I think I should have some of my own stipulations.”

“I grow weary of your games,” Laurent said, and the dagger was in his hand. Its handle, gold and jeweled with blue, glittered in the light still streaming in the cell. The captain eyed it, but not with intimidation as Laurent had hoped, but with curiosity.

“That’s not any blade,” Captain Damianos said, another kind of realization dawning on him this time. “That’s a Veretian Royal Navy dagger made for a captain.”

Laurent was on his feet, was at the door, and the dagger was still in his grip, defensive and ready for use. The door slammed behind him, but even its crash wasn’t enough to deafen the captain calling after him.

“I’ve seen that dagger before. I knew you didn’t speak like a pirate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second part will be out very soon <3 
> 
> you can chat with me on tumblr @marrieddorks! i'm also on twitter @peachjensen but i'm not very good at twitter lol


	2. Chapter 2

Laurent’s pulse was threatening to beat out of his chest, to beat out of his neck, to send his blood bursting on the deck like their captain’s had but a few days ago.

Jord had heard of his retreat back to the surface and had sent a crew member to keep eye on Captain Damianos below. Then he was at Laurent’s side, the two of them watching the last of the sun disappearing beyond the horizon.

“The Golden Prince was attacked at sunset, wasn’t it?” Laurent asked him in place of greeting. He sounded as he always did, but Jord could see the sweat on his temple.

“So I was told,” Jord answered him slowly. Laurent said nothing, just nodded at the confirmation of what he already knew. “We had been out on patrol, had already been attacked by the Prince Killer once, and those not held captive were back to their duties. The governor had sent us out onto the sea because of the reports that had come in from Marches that pirates were in the area. One report even said that they had intervened a ship from Chastillon carrying food supplies. The first attack came on our fifth day out. The second, on our sixth. Auguste had just given a rousing speech about brotherhood when the ship and its bloodied flag appeared on the horizon. Stations had been manned quickly, Auguste had manned his post, and when the first flood of bullets and cannons ripped through the Golden Prince, the crew was steady. But after that, it all happened so quickly. By the time those of us already in captivity had had our release bought, the Golden Prince was at the bottom of the ocean.”

“And Auguste along with it,” Laurent whispered.

“And Auguste.”

“He recognized the dagger,” Laurent said. He was holding Auguste’s dagger in his hand still, but his grip was slack, exhausted in its emotions. “Captain Damianos.”

Jord looked at the dagger, let his eyes trail its polished surface. Laurent must have taken great care of it over the years. Jord could vividly remember giving him the dagger, Laurent’s eyes wide and searching for answers, and Jord unable to provide anything but this measly token of Auguste’s he had in his possession. He had it because “Captain Damianos gave me that dagger.”

If Jord had expected a violent, physical reaction, he didn’t get one. Laurent turned to him after a heartbeat’s pause. The only thing that gave him away were his eyes, wide and searching for answers once more.

“After the initial onslaught of attack, our ship was boarded by half of the pirate crew, including Captain Damianos. He announced over the fighting of everyone that he didn’t want bloodshed, that he only wanted to speak with our captain, man to man. Auguste always took on a challenge without fear and he stared the captain in his eyes. Each took one man with them and then they had disappeared to the navigation room. The pirate crew took to our ship as though it was their own and had been lounging as though they were untouchable when their captain, alongside Auguste, came back. Auguste had announced that a quarter of our own men were to be given as prisoner to the pirate crew of Captain Damianos and would be delivered back, unharmed, once a treaty was delivered. Meanwhile, a quarter of their own crew would stay aboard the Golden Prince in the cells. It was an even trade, and Auguste only had to confirm with the governor before going through with it.”

“I thought you were on board the Prince Killer when it sunk Auguste’s ship?” There was a wild edge to Laurent’s voice, a confusion and confirmation all at once, and Jord could do nothing but keep talking of what he knew.

“No. Auguste assigned several of us to go and alongside his promise, he gave his dagger to Captain Damianos as a token of his word. The plan was that when the exchange was made, the captain would give Auguste his crew and the dagger. They took us to a province in Akielos. Aegina, I think. They kept us there under watch of a few of their other men so they could continue to sail. But, two nights after the trade, the Prince Killer’s quartermaster came to the cells where we were held and informed us the Golden Prince had been sunk and there were no survivors. When we raged and demanded to know if they had done it, he said nothing. The Prince Killer’s crew escorted us out one by one so we couldn’t fight. I was the last to leave. Captain Damianos escorted me out personally and gave me the dagger. He told me he was sorry for what had happened and when I spat in his face, he did nothing.”

Laurent sheathed the dagger back in its place at his side so he could run both hands through his hair. His hair had gotten lighter than it had been at Arles, now having been in the sun for seven months straight, and he looked every bit stricken with knowledge beyond his own understanding.

“All this time,” he started, eyes unmoving from the spot where the water was giving way for their ship to pass through, “I had thought the pirates had killed my brother.”

“They did, Laurent,” Jord said.

“No, they didn’t.” He pushed himself away from the railing, began walking, began pacing, began thinking and thinking. “I have to go, I have to talk to him.”

“Laurent, wait!” Jord tried calling after him, confused, and Laurent wasn’t listening, was already going back down the stairs to where Captain Damianos still sat.

Jord heard Laurent yell at the crew member he had put down there, “Get out,” and heard the door slam shut, so reminiscent of how it had been minutes ago.

Following him, Jord wasn’t quick enough. He heard a _schlick_ of metal, the dagger sliding through the lock to keep the door shut from the inside, and he banged on the door once, twice.

“Laurent!”

~~OOOOO~~

“What happened to the Golden Prince?”

Captain Damianos was at the cell bars, long moved from his seat, and his heart was on his tattered sleeve, his face open.

“You’re Laurent,” Captain Damianos said instead of an answer.

“What happened to the Golden Prince?” Laurent asked again, his voice hard. He was certain the captain could see the beat of his heart through his shirt.

“Auguste talked about you.”

“What —”

“He said you were the true reason why he would make a deal with a pirate.”

“What happened to —”

“He said he had to come home to you, he couldn’t leave you alone.”

“What happened to the Golden Prince?”

This time, the question wretched itself from his throat like jagged glass and there was another dagger, a smaller one, in his hand and at Captain Damianos’ throat. His hand was shaking.

“It was sunk,” the captain said, his voice clipped. “But not by me.”

Laurent sheathed the second dagger and took a step closer to the bars. He could make out flecks of amber in the captain’s eyes, molten in their equally intense stare back at him.

“Tell me everything.”

Captain Damianos leaned one broad shoulder on the corner bar of the cell. He was so relaxed in his posture. Laurent could imagine sticking his hand through the space of the bars and nicking his throat, just to watch the blood well. The captain’s arms were so large Laurent was certain they couldn’t reach back at him through the same space. It brought him extra comfort.

“We never had attacked a navy ship before, not until they started hunting us like sport. The governor was a bloodthirsty man, hiding his true nature behind lies of protecting his people.”

“That’s my father you’re speaking about,” Laurent said, but it lacked the heat he had held when talking of Auguste.

“Your brother knew the truth. It runs in the blood of your father’s side which is why your uncle is even worse than your father could have ever hoped to be.”

There was another bang on the door, but it sounded far off, sounded as though it could be miles away in Laurent’s mind. He held his shoulders tight, held his chin defiantly.

“You agree with Auguste. You agree with me,” Captain Damianos said, and he was right. “You know the nature of your father and uncle better than anyone else, no doubt.”

“My father was not near the monster my uncle is.”

“We had been on the seas for a week with a plan to intercept a ship that had gathered food supplies from Sicyon. The farm they had taken the food from hadn’t been paid and yet the navy had come for them anyway. We found that unfair. But we never got a chance to intercept them because the Golden Prince was upon us with a threat, written out by the governor of Arles himself. We wanted to explain the situation, the wrong that had been done to an Akielon province, but the quartermaster wouldn’t hear us. Both ships left that unharmed, but our own fire had been fueled. We wrote out a treaty to be signed and when we got wind of where the Golden Prince would next be, we turned our ship around and found them.”

“The treaty was about surrendering the interference of your ships on Veretian waters as long as Vere stayed out of Akielon territories with their raiding,” Laurent filled in the blanks.

“Yes. They saw us coming and tried to get away so we raised our red flag and continued on, using our cannons to subdue them. Aboard, your brother and I both called for our men to put away their arms. I presented the contract to your brother alongside his quartermaster and my own. Auguste had listened to me with great attention, believed me when I explained the situation with Sicyon and how it was not a single occurrence. He promised to get it signed, to return it along with my men back to me. In turn I took some of his own men and his dagger as a token. It was two days later that the bounty for my ship and its crew came out and we sat there wondering the reason until the rumor reached our own ears: that we had sunk the Golden Prince and had killed its whole crew.

The first thing that gave us pause was concern of our own men. But then so many other things dawned on us after that, namely that our contract was lost to the sea and the only man that could have done anything about it was gone with it.”

The captain was pacing the cell. It wasn’t much space to pace in, the length of the cell but the size of an incredibly small room, but it was enough to see showcase the anguish the captain felt retelling such a story. It was enough to see the truth displayed for what it was.

“Vere not only refused to honor the contract and stop attacking Akielon provinces, but they were so desperate to make us out as the evil in their story that they sunk their own ship and killed their own people to frame it so we had no options but to turn into their evil. We have pillaged and attacked every Veretian ship come our way since that fateful day. As it is, there are more attacks being done on Akielon lands by the Veretian Royal Navy than ever before, them being under the control of your uncle now. We are the only things standing between them and the utter destruction of our lands.”

There was wood splintering in Laurent’s hands. Blood was pumping, was loud in his ears, and he was drowning again. That horrid day came back to him in flashes: the messenger running from the port, his father falling to his knees, the inability to comprehend what was being said. The days following that had been just as awful, full of endless tears, full of his father’s vibrant anger, screaming for the hanging of an entire crew that killed his brother.

Laurent remembered a different kind of scream. He remembered his own screaming into a tear-soaked pillow. He remembered picturing the man that had killed his brother, had killed Auguste.

It was nauseating, the realization of it; the truth.

This wasn’t the man who killed Auguste.

Laurent knew in his head and in his heart this shouldn’t bring forth a sense of calm. Laurent knew he shouldn’t already be looking into the cell holding a man he had trained himself to hate for song with a new and different light. It was too soon, it was too much, and yet the balance felt shifted to equilibrium.

“I’ll be back,” Laurent said. “I need air. I can’t — I can’t think.”

Captain Damianos was trying to read him. He could see the action reflected in those brown eyes, he could feel the parts of hope and despair radiating from the man’s large form.

“I’ll be back.”

When he slid the dagger out of its place, the staircase was full of several members of the Bella Orcus. They were all looking at him, worried for what he may have done, and he shoved past their prone forms to get another gasp of air. He had to keep himself from drowning.

~~OOOOO~~

He was talking to himself. It was the first thing he realized after vomiting over the side of the ship, after emptying what little he had eaten over the last few days.

“It all makes sense,” he was muttering, his voice finally shaking with all the emotions he had experienced in the last hour, the whiplash of it horrifying. “Everything makes sense.”

Like clockwork, Jord was at his side, equal parts furious and questioning and exhausted. Laurent couldn’t talk to him, not right away. He was still muttering, the words nonsense out loud, and Jord’s hand was on his shoulder, his voice anchoring.

“Laurent, for fuck’s sake, what is going o—”

“My uncle ordered the hit on the Golden Prince.”

The air around them chilled and Jord pulled back as though physically slapped.

“What?”

“It was the only thing he could do, he was just trying to figure out the timing. He paid individual crew members of multiple Veretian ships to go over their boundaries in Akielon territories to provoke the pirates. When he succeeded in that he knew one of the crews would interfere with a Veretian vessel. Everyone fell into his plan.”

“Laurent, you’re talking as though you’re mad,” Jord siad, his own voice shaky now. “To imply your uncle would kill his own nephew —”

“I’m not implying, I’m explicitly stating. He couldn’t have that treaty getting to my father via Auguste. My father would comply and it would be the end of his scheming. It was so easy to hire rogues, it was so easy to intercept the Golden Prince posing as Veretian allies. The hardest part was no doubt making sure everyone went down with the ship.”

“Is this what Captain Damianos told you? He’s a pirate captain, Laurent. He’s not a good man,” Jord said, his voice soft yet firm in its direction.

“He’s telling the truth. Do you think I would believe him because he told me a fantastical story? Give me credit, Jord.” Laurent paused and focused on relaxing his white-knuckled grip on the railing. “The story we were given was always too much. Never before had a pirate ship attacked one of the Veretian vessels with the intent to kill. Why put a bounty on themselves in such a way? And after what you told me about your time in captivity, about the suddenness of your release ...none of it added up until the captain filled in the blanks. Now everything makes sense. Everything makes horrifying sense.”

He pushed himself away, put his back to the sea, and once more made a walk to the brig. Jord was following.

“I should have always known my uncle was the only true evil in this world.”

~~OOOOO~~

Captain Damianos was still at the cell bars when Laurent returned, Jord at his heels.

“Let’s say I believe you,” Laurent began. “That still doesn’t explain why you attacked this ship. We’re not a Veretian vessel.”

“It was a mistake on my part. It is why I surrendered. I couldn’t have my men slaughtered because I miscalculated or ran on incorrect information,” the captain said, forehead practically against one of the bars.

“What information were you working on?”

“That the pirate Govart was on this ship,” Captain Damianos said. His anger just at the name was palpable.

Laurent and Jord exchanged a look and it was Jord’s turn to speak. “Govart was on this ship.”

The captain’s eyes flicked upward so fast it almost appeared a trick of light. Laurent could see the way his chest started to rise with shallowed breath, could see the way the anger had festered.

“Where is he now?”

“Dead.”

Another emotion flicked just as fast. “Dead? By whose hand?”

“My own,” Laurent said, chin high. “He attacked me. I don’t take attacks on myself lightly. Our ruckus infuriated our captain, the one you slaughtered, and he sentenced us to duel for our indiscretions. I won.”

“Why did you want Govart?” Jord asked. He could see the captain taking in Laurent’s physical form, taking in the sharpness of his cheekbones, the fullness of his lips. He could see the disbelief and the appreciation there, all not quite as newfound as Jord would have assumed it would have been. It made him nervous.

“Govart was a newly appointed Veretian Royal Navy quartermaster. He and his crew had been sent to colonize the island of Isthima. We only came to know of this because one of our crew members, Pallas, is from there. His sister sent him a letter from Port Karthas begging to be saved by the Veretian monsters lurking their lands. By the time we got there,” the captain paused, as though the memory was too much, “it had been a massacre.”

The captain’s broad shoulders slumped against the cell’s left wall as he continued the tale. “All the homes had been burnt to the ground. Men, dead for days, were just lying in the sands. The few that had survived were in a labor camp. When we found the navy crew, only half of them remained. The other half was taking Isthimian goods to the port in Arles. Govart was in charge and had created his own harem of women and young boys, one of those women being Pallas’ sister. A fight ensued when he saw us, but it had been unexpected and we won out. When we asked him why he would do such a thing, the beast just smiled and said that it was orders. We tried to be ready for the crew upon their return, but we were outmatched in weaponry. Govart escaped with them, but his love of women did him a disservice and he was cast out of the navy. We heard he had slunk his way into a pirate crew and asking around led us to you all. That’s why we attacked.”

Laurent knew not even Jord could say such horror didn’t fit the likeness of Govart. That fact was written on Jord’s face, his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched. There was a muscle there, twitching.

“I always knew my uncle had corrupted the Veretian Navy upon his rise to governor, but,” Laurent paused. “I never thought his corruption went much beyond Arles.”

“It has been a very long time since Veretian corruption was only in Arles,” the captain said solemnly.

“If what you say is true,” Jord interrupted, his hand sliding down the roughness of his face, “I’m inclined to not keep you or your crew any longer. It would be unjust by the code.”

Captain Damianos turned to him, eyes searching. “I killed your captain.”

“And we were housing a fugitive of Vere as well as a fugitive by the pirate code. Such an attack was necessary on your behalf, even if we were without knowledge of Govart’s treachery.”

The decision was made. Jord was always such a stickler for code, whether it had been under Auguste’s captaincy or now his own and his face told everything. He was already moving to go tell the crew to release the crew of the Prince Killer. Laurent put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Perhaps we should release the captain first so his crew doesn’t mistake us for trickery,” Laurent said.

“Yes. Of course.”

The retrieval of keys was quick and the cell unlocking sounded like a crash. The captain stood there at the precipice of the cell, looking unsure.

“You’ve come to this conclusion quickly,” he trailed, watching raptly as Jord handed him back his effects.

“Jord is loyal to the code,” Laurent said in answer, his chest feeling light despite everything. “And I am unsurprised. There were always gaps in the story but it was much easier to believe a pirate doing such a deed than family. Especially when one is thirteen years of age. Sadly, it’s a very naive thought process and I have been proven wrong.”

Captain Damianos pulled back on his vest, his gunbelt, his hat, and all his weapons. He looked lighter, like the feeling in Laurent’s chest, and he looked fully a captain once more. Laurent stepped to the side.

“I’ll show you to your men,” Jord said, standing at the door.

The captain stared as he walked by Laurent. He looked like he wanted to speak more now that the animosity was gone from Laurent’s eyes, but right now there wasn’t time. He kept walking and then the infirmary brig was empty. Laurent paused to take in a deep breath. The tides had changed a multitude of times in so few days. It was making his head spin.

~~OOOOO~~

Explaining the necessary actions of releasing the Prince Killer’s crew was a tense situation for all. There was a radiating unhappiness about the news, but crews were not apt to challenge their captain’s orders. Alongside the unhappiness was understanding.

The Prince Killer’s crew was thrilled, but not arrogant in their release. Laurent watched raptly as Captain Damianos greeted them, watched as each man smiled brilliantly at their captain back in his effects, watched as a man who must have been the quartermaster whispered something that was met with a grin and a hearty laugh.

The first thing they did when they returned to their ship was lower the Bella Orcus’ flag and restring their own, its sword insignia a light on their ship coming back to life.

Jord and Captain Damianos were talking before he reboarded the Prince Killer and several minutes later, with a surprised and hesitant voice Jord said, “We are celebrating tonight. We will put all of our misunderstandings behind us. The Prince Killer and its crew are no longer our enemies and we are not theirs. The captain and myself would like to celebrate the new.”

For the third time in less than a week, Laurent felt as though he had whiplash from the turn of events.

It was hard to keep track of all that had happened in the last few days and the news of a celebration made Laurent’s exhaustion suddenly evident to both himself and those around him. His shoulders felt heavy where his chest was light and there was a pulse in his head, just behind his eyes, as he watched a good few of the men leave to port to gather food supplies for their feast.

“With all due respect, _Captain_ ,” he said to Jord, allowing himself to smile ever so slightly at the subtle way Jord’s shoulders rose to the title, “I’m going to go rest for a bit. A lot has happened in the last several days.”

“It has. Go. We’ll be doing nothing but preparing ourselves for celebration which, with a lot of pirates, requires food and rum and music. Nothing like those gaudy Veretian festivities you used to attend,” Jord told him.

Laurent nodded in silent thanks and was almost at the staircase to descend to the crews’ quarter when he paused and turned back, keeping his voice quiet. “Do you think this could be a trap?”

The question had an effect on Jord, his shoulders rising for a whole different reason, but after a pause they fell back to where they had been. “I don’t think so. After everything that has happened, I really believe we have been manipulated by what we wanted to hear and not the truth. Easy or not, Captain Damianos revealed what I believe is the truth and until he gives me a reason not to trust him, I don’t see why we should make enemies of a skilled mariner.”

There was no argument Laurent could make to such a statement and after yet another pause, he found himself nodding once more and finally descending into darkness made for rest and recollection.

~~OOOOO~~

Sadly, the little bit of sleep Laurent managed to gather did nothing for his spinning head. It was no doubt unhelped by the loud ruckus of the men up above and the movement of the ship to keep its proximity to the Prince Killer and her crew. What little he did manage to gather, however, was enough to keep him from feeling too murderous as he rejoined the land of the living.

It was an odd sight, what was already happening on the deck when Laurent seamlessly weaved in. Akielon and Veretian pirates were mingling hesitantly, their glasses overflowing with spirits, and yet they were getting bolder, louder, as more drink was passed around and the stomach-rumbling smell of the food began to drown the typical smells of the sea.

Laurent found it fascinating and comfortably perched himself nearest where the two boats we closest so he could watch raptly. Near their mainmast, Laurent could see Lazar chatting up an Akielon sporting a tunic and Laurent found himself briefly cursing the paleness of his own skin that required constant cover on deck during the daytime. In fact, he was so caught up in damning his Veretian genetics that he missed the approach of a looming figure until it was standing atop of him.

Captain Damianos was much more intimidating when he wasn’t behind iron bars.

Sometime between his release and the preparation for this celebration he had managed to find time to shave, his face smoother and younger because of it, and yet it did nothing to distract from his physique. Even not fighting, the captain was all rippling muscles and broad stances. It seemed a preference of his to keep his arms bare and his legs almost their equal. The moonlight brought out the definition of his musculature and the olive tone of his skin, some parts darker from his frequency in the sun. None of it had Laurent ready for the genuine nature of his smile though.

“You mind?” Captain Damianos asked, motioning to an empty spot next to Laurent. Laurent nodded, a quick movement, and he turned his head as the captain lowered himself to sit against the same railing.

It was quiet, the air between them, for several moments. Around, the noise of the celebration had reached a high, its roar deafening, its freedom intoxicating.

“For someone who just prevented a lot of potential bloodshed,” the captain started, breaking the steadiness of this spot, “you’re not getting into the festivities.”

“I’m tired,” Laurent said. His head was back, resting on wood, and he watched the crews walk around them both with lidded eyes.

Captain Damianos seemed to understand, nodding as Laurent had a moment ago. “The sea is ever changing,” he said as if it explained everything. In a way, it did.

Laurent thought it was going to get quiet again when the captain kept talking, his voice hard to hear over the ruckus around. “I apologize for killing your captain.”

The captain wasn’t looking at him, Laurent saw as he turned his own head minutely. The captain was staring ahead as Laurent had been, head resting against the railing he was in front of, and his face was heart-stoppingly open in his palpable regret.

“Well, Captain, I’d hate for you to think me coldhearted,” Laurent started, sounding as though he didn’t care at all, “but I wasn’t particularly put out by it.”

Captain Damianos laughed a surprised laugh that started in his chest.

“Captain Enguerran had no love for me and I none for him. It’s why he was hoping Govart would kill me in the duel. There was never any intention for me to have a fair shot,” Laurent told him thinking that’s what had him laughing.

“I don’t think you could ever be mistaken for coldhearted,” the captain said instead, surprising Laurent. It must have shown. “You harbored anger and grief and love for your brother for a near decade and yet you were rational enough to listen and absorb the reality of a situation that couldn’t have been easy to process. No one coldhearted could do either of those things.”

Laurent hummed, finding he couldn’t do anything more. It wasn’t often he found himself at a loss for words but it also appeared it wouldn’t be the only time this evening he found himself as such.

“I apologize for what happened to Auguste as well.”

“You didn’t do it.” It was easy to say. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“He was a good man,” Captain Damianos said. “He must have been a great brother for you to have loved him as much as you did. As you do.”

A loss, again. “He was. He was all I had.”

Lazar and the Akielon in the tunic seemed to have truly hit it off across the way. The Akielon was half in Lazar’s lap, one leg tucked underneath him, the other being felt up by one of Lazar’s wandering hands. Meanwhile Jord had the attentions of an already-smitten Aimeric whose long fingers were on the edge of his captain’s badge.

“I would like for you to call me Damianos,” the captain said suddenly. “Or Damen. But the title of captain is far too formal when not on the sea. It makes me feel out of place.”

Laurent couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Small name?” he asked, everything that needed to be asked being asked with those two words.

“We’re practically friends, are we not?” the captain — Damianos — asked with that same genuine smile.

Laurent hummed again. “We haven’t actually had proper introduction.”

“That’s easily fixable,” Damianos said, shifting and turning until he was half-facing Laurent. It pulled his shirt tighter to his chest. “My name is Damianos.”

There was a hand extended out.

“Laurent,” Laurent introduced, unable to fully suppress his own smile, however small.

“So, Laurent,” Damianos said, shifting back. “What are you going to do now?”

The question reinforced the heavy feeling on Laurent’s shoulders and they sagged in response, as though just the contemplation weighed him down. “I’m not certain,” he began, thinking of what to say next. “I came to the sea full of rage and harbored despair. Most prominently, however, I came to the sea with a plan. Seven months have been wasted in my search and hope to come face to face with the man who killed my brother only to find that I had been looking at him my whole life.” His left hand was rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke, trying to ease the pinched feeling there. “Everything has turned upside down.”

“Your uncle,” Damianos began with a heavy sigh, “is an evil man.”

 _You have no idea,_ Laurent wanted to say, but the world was never ready for such an admission. Not Laurent’s world.

“If it does anything to ease your mind, know that he will be meeting the end of my blade,” Damianos said. His voice had dropped lower, the anger held evident in the clenching of his fists. Laurent turned to fully face him.

“You plan to attack the Veretian Royal Navy?”

“We have been for some time.” Damianos turned to fully face him as well. “You could come.”

“Help you attack the Veretian Royal Navy?” The question came out with a bubbling laugh.

“It’s what you came out here to do, you simply didn’t know it at the time,” Damianos said. The truth of it had Laurent’s blood singing and it was so intoxicating in its temptation that he didn’t hear Jord fumbling over, Aimeric on his arm.

“Laurent, can I talk to you?” Jord asked. His voice was stern, eyes wide, and he kept looking over at Damianos as though he may spontaneously combust at any moment.

“Jord —” Laurent started to say, the dismissal evident in his tone.

“As your captain,” Jord said, voice even more stern.

“Show me you plan,” Laurent said, turning his attention back to Damianos. “I’ve got to know.”

Damianos grin was blinding and he shot it at both Laurent and Jord — Captain Jord — before getting to his feet and extending a broad palm to Laurent. Laurent’s blood was still singing and he took it, letting Damianos hoist him up.

Jord was calling after him. Laurent could hear him in the background, in the distance, but it was impossible to pay attention to it when Captain Damianos was in front of him, guiding him through the throng of drunken pirates all across the deck of the Bella Orcus.

“It’s in the drawing room,” Damianos said over his shoulder. Laurent could see the shine of his teeth in the moonlight.

Balancing themselves, they walked across an expansive plank connecting the two pirate ships, both full of celebration. There were more Akielons here on the Prince Killer, and a few of them threw curious glances at the blond Veretian being led over their ship, but none paid more than a few seconds of attention before getting back to their celebrating.

The wood that made up the Prince Killer was darker than the wood of the Bella Orcus. It made the minuscule decoration along the cabins and masts stand out more. When they finally did get into the drawing room, the door a heavy thud behind them, Laurent couldn’t help but take in the decoration here too.

It was a dark room thanks to the wood and the lack of light, but the illumination from the oil lamps hid nothing of importance. A neatly organized desk sat off-center, its surface stacked high with books and yellowed paper, and on it a bottle of expensive looking booze from Patras. There were more treasures scattered around like a Vaskian pelt on the floor and a collection of Kemptian glass, but most eye catching was the map hanging on the wall. The countries and provinces were predominantly left alone, but the sea was full of markings and pins, all similar to the ones Laurent had approached Jord with all those months ago.

Every path of the Veretian Royal Navy was tracked in yellow.

“We’ve been following their movements for a year now,” Damianos started after letting Laurent take in the vastness of it all. “We’ve talked to people at the ports they frequent, finding out how long they’re there, finding out what they take and what they give. Despite your uncle’s interference across the nearby countries, he’s built himself into one fault which is predictability. That, paired alongside his belief that he is untouchable, make him an easier target than he could ever imagine. The problem is that it appears no one else is tracking his navy the way we are or, worse, no one has made the connection as we have.”

Laurent’s eyes were flitting across the map and his ears were absorbing what the captain was telling him. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was being planned and it was so simple, Laurent thought, no wonder they felt confident in it. His uncle would never see it coming.

“You plan on commandeering the ships at the ports and shutting down the borders,” Laurent breathed.

Damianos nodded. There was a wild edge to the look in his eyes, a fire. “Take the ships, shutdown the borders. News won’t arrive to Arles for at least two weeks, maybe longer with a border shutdown, and in the meantime we have built ourselves an armada made predominantly out of Veretian ships and weaponry. Should he attack back, he’ll take out his own ships and weaken his navy in turn. Should he surrender, he can be hanged and buried with his name and title.”

“I think this is a fine plan,” Laurent started, taking a step forward, trailing a finger gently along the map’s surface where the port closest to Ios, the Akielon capital, was marked off, “but you’re underestimating him if you think he won’t have a plan to counter all this.”

“We have full confidence as of now that he has no idea we’ve been tracking this,” Damianos said, that same confidence evident in his tone.

“I believe that. But he has considered this happening. Maybe not by you and your crew, specifically, but by someone. Believe me when I say he has thought of all the things that could happen in some way and believe me when I say he has a solid plan to counter such a thing.”

Laurent touched one of the pins with delicate fingers and plucked it out of the fabric, moving it to the port nearest Arles.

“You know him better than I do,” Damianos said as he watched him. “What do you propose we do?”

“I’m not entirely certain.” Laurent moved another pin. “I fear I may know him too well that I may be counter-productive in this scheme. When he finds out I’m involved — which he will — he be able to counter much easier. Your methods are unpredictable to him and, frankly, that gives you great advantage. But the idea of doing this only isn’t going to work. You need a second plan for when he counters your first. And you need a third plan for when he counters your second. But they need to be your plans.”

The captain was writing, the periodic movement of his hand across paper and back to the inkwell soothing in the otherwise heart-pulsing atmosphere. It was surprising and not all at once to realize he was noting what Laurent was saying.

“How many people are you anticipating to help you in this endeavor?” Laurent asked.

“As of now, we just have us. We’re in negotiation with a group of Patran pirates, but our relationship with them is shaky,” Damianos told him.

“If it’s just you, you might as well consider yourselves dead. You need more people.”

“Most people aren’t keen to attack the Veretian Royal Navy,” Damianos said with a humorless laugh.

“If they knew your plan, they may be more likely to agree,” Laurent said. “It’s a good plan, but it is doomed for failure with you alone. Who is this Patran group you’ve been in negotiations with?”

“Torgeir and his brother,” Damianos supplied. “Torveld seems more adamant about it, but Torgeir is hesitant. Perhaps for the same reason as you.”

Laurent hummed. “I know of them. Torveld and I are on good terms. I’m sure with enough breaking down, Torgeir would agree.”

“You plan on talking to them on my behalf?” Damianos asked, half joking.

“I could.”

Damianos looked up, fully. Laurent was staring back, his eyes with their own wild edge to them.

“I want to see my uncle taken down. I’ve wanted it since before I knew of his atrocities toward my brother. I’ve wanted it since I was thirteen years of age. You are the only person I’ve ever known with enough gall to do such a thing and I would like to see you succeed. I would like to help you succeed. And part of that is getting more people. I can help you there.”

“Who else would commit to a mission like this?”

“Besides the Patran group? There are four different Vaskian ships that would join in, their anger at my uncle going as far back as the very day he took oath as governor. There is another Patran group made up of slave traders whom I find distasteful but hate my uncle as much as anyone. And there’s us.”

“You?”

“Jord was Auguste’s right hand. He will agree to avenging my brother should a plan be in place to do so successfully. And there are many other Veretians that would agree should the truth of my brother’s death get way to land with enough evidence to back up the claim,” Laurent said.

“You’re saying —”

“Let me go talk to him before this night is over. You both are here and an agreement can be reached much easier if Jord doesn’t have time to dwell on what could go wrong. But I think,” Laurent paused. “I think you may be the key to ending my uncle’s reign.”

Laurent was already moving, excitement and odd feeling in his chest and so welcome it made him feel light. It wasn’t until he was near out the door that Damianos called after him.

“I think if this works, you were the key all along.”

It was hard not to turn but Laurent didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of taking him aback for the dozenth time in but a day. He kept walking with one goal in mind and that was to find a semi-sober Jord back on the Bella Orcus.

~~OOOOO~~

Laurent hadn’t been gone for but three minutes when the door to the drawing room of the Prince Killer opened wide. Damianos was at the map, taking in the pins Laurent had moved around, and was caught up in it enough to not give much mind to the person standing in his doorway.

“Bringing a Veretian aboard,” the person said.

It was enough to bring Damianos’ attention back to the present and he turned to find his quartermaster, Nikandros, leaning an unimpressed shoulder against the threshold.

“Not just any Veretian,” Damianos began, copying Nikandros’ posture, “but the nephew of the man we’re going after.”

Nikandros made a sound. “Sure. He’s the blond-haired, blue-eyed nephew of the man we’re planning on killing, what could go wrong?”

“I would argue he has more reason to want his uncle dead than any of us,” Damianos said, ignoring the first part of Nikandros’ quip. “Even if Laurent truly hated us, he hates his uncle more.”

“We’re just to run with that in confidence then?”

Nikandros was Damianos’ most trusted advisor for a multitude of reasons. Coming from similar backgrounds, Nikandros was great at everything Damianos could do and was better than him in other things. Most of their map had been created from Nikandros’ own hands; the strategy was Damianos, but the vision was Nikandros. Most importantly, however, their longtime friendship made Nikandros one of the few people who would question Damianos or call him out. Right now, he was doing both.

“I think we have to.” Damianos pointed at two of the pins Laurent had moved. “He’s right, you know. We don’t have enough men. You’ve said it before but it is abundantly clear now. Laurent can help us get those men though. But more than that, he knows his uncle. He can help us predict what will be coming our way. It’s the best lead we’ve had in months.” He turned, facing Nikandros with his chin high. “I refuse to send our men on a suicide mission.”

“What if he can’t get us those men? What do we do then?” Nikandros asked, slumping into a large leather chair.

“Then we restructure. We still have insight to the governor’s thought process, into his plans.”

Nikandros’ head was in one of his hands, the other hand clenched tightly on the armrest. Damianos’ sporadic nature did this to Nikandros quite often, but it seemed worse right now. Damianos couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to _blond-haired, blue-eyed, blond-haired, blue-eyed_.

“He better not fuck this up for us, Damen.”

~~OOOOO~~

“Jord, you should see it,” Laurent said, hands braced on the desk of the Bella Orcus’ own drawing room desk. Jord had two fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose and Laurent took a quick second to muse that Jord was, in fact, not sober enough for this conversation.

“Laurent, this feels far too reminiscent of where we were seven months ago, only now you’re trying to side with a —” Jord was gripping at his hair.

“A pirate?”

“Yes! A pirate, Laurent.” Jord began to pace, opening and closing a compass he kept in his back pocket. It looked new. “What would Auguste say?”

“I think Auguste would be more put out that our uncle had him murdered and followed that by raping me for three years.”

Jord said nothing, but he stopped pacing. His back was to Laurent, slightly hunched over, and Laurent could see the shallowness of his breathing.

“We’ve both been talking about pirates as is they’re some kind of common enemy and yet we’re both inexplicably pirates at heart. The sooner we both accept that this gig,” he motioned to the ship surrounding them, “isn’t temporary, the sooner we’ll really find who we are.”

“And who are we, Laurent?” Jord was still turned away.

“I just told you, Jord; we’re pirates.”

Jord’s movements were slow, deliberate, as he turned, his hand opening and closing the compass still. He was eyeing Laurent with contemplation, with relief. There was something about the truth that charged the room. Laurent raised a brow.

“What’s this plan of Prince Killer’s then?”

Laurent smiled, a slight upturn of his lips, and with a quick glance at the door his smile got wider. “Why don’t we go over there so you can see it.”

~~OOOOO~~

Had Laurent been one to believe in the fates, he would have made the assumption that he was being messed with. No one person had their life changed as often as he did, no one person was meant to feel as upside as Laurent had in the last few years, and no one person had their mind constantly switching from defensive to offensive so frequently just to stay alive.

But for the first time, maybe ever, Laurent felt like things might be lining up.

Jord had taken to the plan with great interest and, even more useful, his own connections to crews and old Veretian Navy members that had been disbanded after the sinking of the Golden Prince. Damianos, Nikandros, Jord, and Laurent had stayed up into the early hours of the morning explaining and tracking and planning and by the time the sun had risen over the horizon, their eyes had been stinging and there had been such a solid foundation to work upon it nearly made them dizzy.

After some rest, nothing but a few measly hours, Jord had presented the plan to the crew. They had a choice: they could be part of the joint endeavor to destroy the Veretian Royal Navy or they could go about on their own. But this was to be the mission for the Bella Orcus.

Laurent had watched him give the speech and found it impossible to stop the smile as Jord’s face had lit up in surprise as all the crew opted to stay for their captain.

There had been a few days of preparation that followed, a regathering of supplies and fixing up both ships and Laurent had found himself moving back and forth between the two with ease.

After all that planning and preparing, they were ready to set sail once more, and Laurent couldn’t help but revel in how different the sun felt on his face out on the sea. The waters were a perfect match for the clear sky above and the wind was just strong enough to keep their sails billowed out like clouds.

To his left he heard a sound and across the way was Jord giving a quick wave, his face indistinguishable from the shade of his hat. He was at the bow of the Bella Orcus, a strong figure for the men to follow.

Laurent knew his light coloring stood out more here on the dark wood of the Prince Killer’s deck and he waved back hoping Jord understood everything silently said. With a fond shake of his head, he watched as the Bella Orcus passed them ever so slightly, a petty display of masculinity made for the waters and Laurent couldn’t help but turn to look over his shoulder.

Captain Damianos was at the wheel, the openness of his shirt billowing like the sails, and he was watching Laurent. His eyes were molten where his smile was kind and it made Laurent’s stomach flip like the first time he was out at sea.

Turning back to face the waters, he could still feel the captain’s eyes. It made him hopeful. He breathed in the salty air and steadied his footing.

Their first stop would be Port Basal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that is the end of this (for now)! i can't thank everybody enough for reading. once more, a huge thank you to the mods and to my amazing and lovely artist, ravenouslullaby, for everything. 
> 
> i'm on tumblr @ marrieddorks and i fiddle around twitter @ peachjensen. currently captive prince and witcher obsessed so if anybody is feeling the same, come join in on my screaming <3


End file.
